


Spoilt

by bloodyenochian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyenochian/pseuds/bloodyenochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are a very spoilt child!", he heard his brother's voice from years ago, still ringing in his ears, and he smiled to himself, feeling positive about that observation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoilt

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing DP and Lestrade, though technically, there isn't much of a characterisation going on 'cause it can't get any more OOC than this.
> 
> Written: 13.10. 2010

His eyes were closed and he tried to focus on the two pairs of hands which seemed to be all over him. Two pairs of big, warm hands, so unlike his own which were cold and soft, unaccustomed to hard labour.   
The owners of those hands were similar, in build and also in any other way. One a soldier, the other a police man, both broad shouldered and muscular, again so totally unlike himself, thin and lean.

He imagined them as the same person, splitting into two, in order to engulf him. One in front of him and one behind.  
The warmth radiated off of them and felt wonderful. He wanted more of them, closer. His arms wrapped themselves around Lestrade's neck and pulled him closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck, John behind him understanding the hint and shuffling closer, wrapping the two men in an awkward embrace.

Lestrade's lips were hot when he kissed him and John, mirroring him, planting soft kisses on the back of his neck, his shoulders, down his spine, caused goosebumps to erupt all over his skin, made him feel cold despite the heat that rose up in his chest.

"You are a very spoilt child!", he heard his brother's voice from years ago, still ringing in his ears, and he smiled to himself, feeling positive about that observation.

John's fingers were in his hair, almost forcefully pulling him away from Lestrade and into another kiss, giving the inspector the opportunity to focus his attention on the gradually hardening bulge in Sherlock's trousers.

Lestrade's hand stroked over Sherlock's arms and over his chest and went lower, teasing almost, as they undid the belt and buttons and the zip and let the fabric slip down the consulting detective's legs.  
Sherlock's neck was painfully overstretched, mouth interlocked with John's, those warm hands on his face, but it didn't stop him from making a strangled sound in his throat as he felt Lestrade's heat shift from his upper body to his groin. 

That mouth on his cock, separated from those lips just by the thin fabric of his underwear, made his knees go weak.  
John's mouth left his and moved along his jaw, to his ears, leaving tiny bites down his neck and Sherlock couldn't help but gasp out, barely audible but both men knew him well enough by now.

John moved a hand down to rest on Sherlock's hip, teasing his fingertips along the waistband of his pants and John watched through half-lidded eyes, Lestrade's mouth on their shared lover's groin. 

Sherlock smiled, threading his fingers into that short, graying hair, gently urging him on. Together the two older men pulled Sherlock's pants down, freeing his erection and a long low groan left Sherlock's lips as John's hand wrapped itself around the base and Lestrade's mouth closed around the tip.

He opened his eyes to observe the beautiful picture displayed in front of him, having a police authority kneel before him, his mouth wrapped around his penis - it was brilliant.

Something in the back of his mind told him "it's not decent", oh but he couldn't care less right now.  
John's hand and Lestrade's mouth worked together as one and he closed his eyes again, imagining the two melting into one around him and...

John's erection pressed hard against his behind and he longed for more of him, them, more hot skin on skin, matching their hands and lips which were caressing every inch of him.  
He let his head fall back onto John's shoulder, his hands reaching back to touch his head, his hair any part of his face he could.

"More..." he whispered into his ear and leaned into John's left hand that was still busy stroking lazy circles on Sherlock's chest and stomach. He had a hard time containing his hips from constantly thrusting forward, wanted to keep that moment of climax from ending this delicious scene all too soon although he could easily come there and then.  
John's hands and warmth and bodily support left him suddenly, leaving him feeling almost lonely for a second, but Lestrade remained at his feet, continuing to please and tease him with his otherwise so strict tongue.

When John rejoined the two men he was fully naked, hands on Sherlock's narrow hips and Lestrade understood the hint as it being his turn now to relieve himself of the remainders of his clothes. Sherlock couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the loss he felt but John turned him around on the spot, let him step out of his clothes that pooled at his feet and instantly claimed his mouth with a near violent kiss, making Sherlock's head spin. 

Despite their height difference their erections rubbed against one another and when Lestrade stepped back to the couple and Sherlock felt his erection press against him the way he had felt John's the last of the blood that remained in Sherlock's brain to keep it alive seemed to disappear into his lower regions.

Sherlock gently urged John backwards and the three of them awkwardly stumbled towards the bed. John let himself be pushed down and got straddled by the taller man who was now kissing him with so much lust and fervour he had never expected the other to be capable of.

Lestrade's fingernails were leaving shallow trails of red on the back of Sherlock's thighs and each stroke made him more desperate to finally feel more of the two men he desired.   
"I want you...", Sherlock gasped, breathlessly. "Both." 

 

Lestrade and John exchanged a quick glance, but by then they were already so used to Sherlock's demanding nature they didn't even think of questioning his desires. John felt himself grow even harder just at the thought and closed his eyes as Sherlock leaned down to claim his lips again. 

He felt one of Lestrade's hands underneath him, warm on his lower belly, then his lips on his back, sliding down his spine from in between his shoulder blades down to the base and he shivered slightly in anticipation. A finger, now cold and slick entered him without warning and he moaned into John's mouth, instinctively moving closer to his body, their erections rubbing against one another almost painfully. John shifted a bit underneath him, then a second slick finger joined, but this one was different, yet so similar and oh how perfectly those two fingers synchronised their movements. In Sherlock's head, this was heaven. His two lovers, two separate people, now becoming one, through him. 

Lestrade's free hand snaked in between Sherlock's spread legs and gently stroked him in time to his and John's thrusts. Another finger, and Sherlock let his head just hang down, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the others' hands. Another finger was added and Sherlock's eyelids fluttered closed and he was unsure if he wanted to continue breathing, unsure if he felt pleasure or pain or both or something entirely different. All he knew that he wanted them both, now. 

He reached down underneath himself and wrapped his fingers around John's member, as hot and aching as he was himself. John's breath hitched in his throat at the sensation, then he let out a groan that seemed entirely atypical of him.   
Lestrade leaned forwards and grabbed a fist full of Sherlock's hair, pulling him back until his back was almost straight, but the whisper into his ear was soft, loving. “Ok...?”, was all he asked, and all Sherlock managed was a desperate nod.  
He released John from his hand and let the older men take over the lead entirely, posing him like a rag doll, and then the fingers and the pain was gone and that feeling of loneliness washed over him again, causing a whimper to escape his lips like a puppy who's had his favourite toy taken away from him. 

John looked up at him with those stern but gentle eyes, determined eyes, the eyes of a soldier, of a doctor, of someone who you could trust, and Sherlock trusted him entirely when John's hand closed over his mouth and all he could hear was Lestrade's deep voice going “Shhhhhh...” in his ear.

He knew it wasn't quite possible but he liked to believe that both men entered him at the same time, re-claiming the positions that their fingers had had before, but so much more, so much more painful, so much better. His mouth was released from underneath John's hand again and he drew in deep, quivering breaths, sucking in composure to keep himself from coming immediately. John and Lestrade both seemed to breathe in gasps and moans, sounding like the perfect harmony in Sherlock's ears.

Sherlock's brain kept blacking out and coming back again, he was never quite sure whether his eyes were open or not, his entire being seemed to consist of his lower body, and everything else was a white haze. John and Lestrade worked together in perfect unison, like twins, or like the same person, but cut in half, or doubled up. Lestrade's hands gripped into Sherlock's sides hard enough to definitely leave bruises for the next few days, a little reminder for him to look into the mirror and smile over. 

He felt weak and powerless and completely at the mercy of the two men he had invited into his bed, but it felt better than anything had felt before and he had to bite his lip until he could taste blood in order to distract himself from that tension that started to build up inside him, more and more with every thrust the two made. His brows furrowed ever so slightly, but John recognised this tiniest of muscle twitches immediately. He moved a hand down and gripped Sherlock's cock firmly, painfully red and hot and weeping. 

“Do you want to come...?”, Lestrade's husky voice asked, sounding unusually dirty and John smiled at feeling that small jerk Sherlock's penis made in his hand at those words. 

“Not till we're ready...”, John warned him, and as if to emphasise their words Lestrade's hand found its way back into those soft, black curls, tugging harshly, the pain distracting Sherlock long enough for the thrusts to start to become more irregular, more fervent, deeper and more desperate. John's eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted and Sherlock could see on his face how hard he was concentrating on every movement. Behind him he could feel Lestrade's grip on his hair loosen just the tiniest bit, and when they came Sherlock couldn't help but smile to himself at his little victory.


End file.
